


Progress Is Not Linear

by alluviate



Series: Peter B. Parker Is a Sadsack™ [4]
Category: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Eating Disorders, Family Feels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter B. Parker Needs a Hug, Weight Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2020-03-09 04:29:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18909568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alluviate/pseuds/alluviate
Summary: Peter hasn’t been answering to texts lately, so certain spider-people decide to go check up on him. What they learn is that there is more to their friendly neighborhood spider-dad than he was initially ready to share with them.





	1. Would you like to hear five nice things about you?

**Author's Note:**

> takes place in a universe where the spider-fam has figured out chatting and traveling to other dimensions

**_Gwen has logged on_ **

Gwen: what’s with peter’s radio silence?

Miles: i guess he’s busy

Gwen: for three weeks in a row? that really ain’t like him

Miles: it’s been over three weeks?? seems like you guys left like yesterday

Gwen: ikr.. but yeah, i suppose someone should check up on him? you know with the MJ thing and all

Miles: i’ll go, keep ya posted!

**_Miles has logged off_ **

 

A blur of bright lights and Miles appears on the street below Peter’s apartment. The dizziness wears off faster than in the beginning, even though Miles feels like his body will never get completely comfortable with dimension-hopping. He climbs the fire escape to Peter’s floor because _fuck stairs, right?_ The apartment is dim, but Miles can see that there is a person lying on the mattress with his back turned to the window. Miles doesn’t even think twice that entering through the balcony window would be a breach of privacy, as the attempts at maintaining personal space have gotten ridiculously low after Peni invented the dimension bracelets.

Miles can see him breathing quite shallowly, so he can assume that he’s not in a deep sleep. He sits down cross-legged on the floor beside Peter’s mattress. He presumes that spider-sense has notified of his arrival.

“Miles… What you… mmh… here?” Peter manages to mumble, squinting his eyes.

“Great evening to you too. Came to see if there was a reason why you’re not answering to our texts for weeks.”

“Oh yeah, the phone. Don’t worry, I’m fine. I’ll pick it up when I can, okay?”

“When you can?”

“It’s just… Sometimes I get like this and all I can do is to wait it out.”

Miles wasn’t certain what he was trying to say exactly but piecing together the surroundings he had a pretty good idea of the circumstances.

“Okay. If you want to talk about it…” Miles started.

“I’ll text you when I’m feeling better,” Peter interrupted and closed his eyes to signal that this visit better be over soon.

“Cool. Someone will come to check up on you if we don’t hear from you soon,” Miles said and returned to his dimension.

 

**_Miles has logged on_ **

Gwen: so?

Miles: did not look too hot, really seemed like he hadn’t left the bed for days

Gwen: shitt but you talked with him?

Miles: yeah, somewhat

Miles: he wasn’t really being too straight about it

Miles: told us not to worry.

Gwen: he’d say that even if he had his legs torn off…

Miles: true, but he agreed to message me when he’s up again

Miles: but I said that someone will probably come see him anyway

Gwen: (y)

 

Two weeks later and no sign of Peter in the group chat or at their weekend hangouts. Gwen agreed to go to Peter’s place for a talk and to give a second opinion of his state and what should be done about it.

Gwen really did not care for doorbells either, so she unknowingly repeated Miles’ steps of climbing though the window. Well, they were spider-people after all. A familiar lump of blankets was laying on the mattress, only a few brown hairs peeking out of the burrito he had wrapped himself in.

Gwen took a few steps towards it. “I know you’re not sleeping.”

No answer.

“We don’t know what to do with you.”

To Gwen’s surprise Peter started to rustle the blankets and sat up against the wall.

“You don’t need to do anything,” Peter said and rubbed his forehead and slid his hand down his face tiredly.

Gwen hadn’t seen him in months, and even if he wasn’t an exact poster boy for healthy life back then, he’d gotten even worse. The diet that he had promised to start when they last saw hadn’t clearly either begun or stick to him, since as he sat there shirtless, Gwen could see the obvious weight gain in how his belly hung way over the waistband of his pants. Gwen was quite shocked and kneeled down on the mattress matching Peter’s eye level.

“You know that we care about your well-being as your friends so it’s not that simple. And I’m personally worried about your health. Both mental and physical.” As she finished the sentence she laid her hand gently on his plump stomach. “You see obesity is the leading cause of…” she started before Peter pushed her hand away and disappeared between the blankets again, facing the wall.

“This is really the last thing I need right now,” he said, voice quivering and muffled by the blankets.

Gwen facepalmed mentally; how in the hell did her supposed pep talk turn into lecturing immediately? Peter was right, that was not a thing you’re supposed to bring up now.

“Sorry… I am just crap at emotions so my mind goes straight to practical solutions. I mean not that I am solving anything.” They stayed silent for a while. “Would you like to hear five nice things about you to make up for it?” Gwen suggested with a quiet voice.

“Go on.”

“Well for starters, you’re funny.”

“Mm-hm”

“For an old guy you’re like super handsome. And tall. Which is nice,” she went on haltingly.

“Weird coming from a teenager who could be my daughter, but I’ll take it.”

“You make everyone around you feel comfortable, like, you know, they don’t need to pretend anything.”

“You’re a good listener, surprisingly sensitive under all that jaded-old-man bullshit.”

“Sure. Felt more like an insult though.”

“When you set your mind to something you’re guaranteed to follow through. You might fall, but you’ll always eventually get up.”

“But how many times do I need to fall and get up?” Peter asked with weary voice.

“As many as it takes. Progress is not linear you know.”

“So that means… we can get pizza tonight?” Peter raised his eyebrows.

“Sure.”

 

“How would you feel if the spider-fam joined the pizza night?” Gwen asked.

Peter got a difficult look on his face.

“Umm… I’m not sure if I want all of them to see me like this. I’m tired of explaining myself…”

“Peter. They are not stupid.” Gwen gave him a sharp look.

“So, how about you clean yourself up a bit and I’ll see what I can do to this apartment in that while.”

“Fine.”

 

If this would’ve been a movie, the Peter that emerged from the bathroom would be eyes glimmering, clean shaven, sudden washboard abs in a smart outfit, ready take on the world. But what was presented to Gwen was dark-circled eyes, scruffy stubble and a t-shirt that was strained in the middle against his protruding stomach. But the clothes were clean, his hair wasn’t greasy and that was way more than enough. Gwen rushed to hug him as a surprise for both of them.

The night with the spider-fam went fine, no one called any attention to Peter’s social absence, not because they were avoiding it intentionally, but because the casual atmosphere stirred way more natural conversations.

 

Gwen was the last to leave. “Take care, okay?”

Peter just nodded.

He was left standing in a quiet apartment, looking thoughtfully at his messy kitchen with empty pizza boxes in it.


	2. You think she'd be proud?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen's second look into the life and secrets of Peter B. Parker gets interrupted by a person who is unlucky enough to know better.

A few weeks went by, and Peter didn’t still make much noise about himself, but the spider-family understood, leaving him mostly alone. Gwen kept checking up on him more closely via private messages but hadn’t seen him mostly due to her own busy schedule. One early evening after band practice she had an hour or so to spare and decided that they were close enough to allow an unannounced visit from her.

Up the balcony she goes, and the first thing she notices is that there is music blaring through the half-open window. The next thing she notes is that there is no familiar lump lying on Peter’s mattress, in fact the “bed” is made, and the man is nowhere to be seen in the living room.

“Hello?” she hollers. She can hear a faint rumble from the kitchen through the pulsating music, and heads that way. She is surprised to see Peter standing on the kitchen counter, head almost in the ceiling, a tall man as he is. He has clearly lost some weight, but his appearance is mostly just as messy as usually. He’s got a paintbrush on his hand, another one in his mouth and a can of off-putting mustard-yellow paint on top of his microwave.

She turns the volume a bit down.

“Hey”

He startles and turns around quickly to locate the source of the voice that is suddenly addressing him, eyes wildly swinging around the room.

“Peter, it’s me”, says Gwen from the doorway, and only then it seems to occur to Peter to look down, instead of searching someone from the ceiling.

“Oh yeah, wow, Gwen”, he startles, takes the paintbrush off his mouth and seems to relax but just a bit. “I was just…” he turned back as if to double-check what he had been doing, “…painting my cabinets. The blue ones started to bother me, and I was like well yeah, I am a handy guy, sort of, not really, but so yeah bought paint. Quite expensive nowadays. I don’t know what paint used to cost. You know the song about the hot cross buns? At least they were cheaper back then. I should ask Noir to bring me paint, if it is cheaper there. But wait, he doesn’t have colors. White cabinets would get dirty right away though. Ketchup and all… I could do I’ll do the handles black. What do you think?”

All this nonsense was a lot to take for Gwen so quickly, especially because lately Peter hadn’t seemed to be really in a mood to chat with anyone.

“I probably know even less about paint prices than you. And as it seems that you are painting the cabinets at this moment with this, eh, interesting color choice, why are you even considering other options?” she managed to weigh in to the obscure paint conversation Peter had started.

“Mmh? Yeah, right. Although Miles might know about paints. Graffiti and stuff. It's illegal though? Well the paint’s not. But spray painting… easy to get carried away. Once had this bike and forgot to put duct tape on the other side when I was painting stripes, but I was never much for biking anyway so...”

“Do you have coffee?” Gwen interrupted, hoping that he could get Peter’s train of thought on more coherent tracks.

“Sure, I guess. Got no milk though. Yogurt maybe? Might have gone bad…”

Gwen opened the fridge and there sure was a half-eaten yogurt, that had a best before date two weeks ago. And that was mostly it. Also, ketchup.

“Hey, what if I go pick up milk from the corner store while you finish up the painting job and then we could just sit down to watch a movie or something?” asked Gwen.

Peter was back at painting and humming atonally with the paintbrush in his mouth.

“Yeah yeah, and can you bring milk too? For coffee or something…”

Gwen raised her eyebrows and left from the door like a normal person, because this apartment had exhausted her sense of adventure.

 

At the market she run into MJ, wondering around the hair dye section.

“Considering to abandon the redhead ship?”

“Hmm? Oh, hey Gwen! No, I’m searching for a dog shampoo but got carried away.”

“What are you doing in this part of the town? Or rather this part of the universe?” MJ continued.

“Picking up milk for Peter. For coffee.”

“Oh? How’s he doing?” MJ asked. Gwen knew that she had seen him at his worst and at his best, which meant that she was not just making casual conversation, but genuinely interested about the answer.

“He’s up and doing things, so better than last time I guess. A bit thinner”, Gwen bit her lip trying to come up with the right words, “Maybe a little eccentric and on edge”.

MJ furrowed her brow for a half second but then put up a polite smile. “Hey, do you mind if I take that milk for him instead? I’ve been meaning to drop by forever and have a chat.”

Gwen sensed that there was something she wasn’t telling but didn’t feel like arguing. “I guess I can come back another time. I got to do my homework for tomorrow anyways.”

“Thanks. Peter will understand. Bye!” said MJ and left with the milk.

 

MJ knocked on Peter’s door. A bit of clinking and clanking but soon Peter’s head appeared from the door, face stained with the baby-poop-colored paint. MJ opened her mouth for a greeting and an explanation, but Peter was faster.

“MJ! Hey! Come in! I just finished painting my cabinets. There was some paint left so I started to paint the ceiling too but then run out of paint, so I’ll have to hit the home depot for some more and also toothpaste, I put a brush wrong side up to my mouth. Or is it wrong side down? Anyway, I also forgot the name of this paint so you wanna come with me, to describe it or to pick a toothpaste, I heard they got coconut now.”

“They could probably get the color reference from the paint on your face. But no, I’m not coming, I just wish we could sit down for a second.”

“Good. Good, good. I hate coconut”, rambled Peter and sat on a chair bouncing his leg so that the whole thing shook.

MJ put the milk away and sat across him.

 

“What are you doing?” she said and put on her most serious face.

Peter blinked obliviously. “Painting my kitchen. Might do the living room too. Haven’t asked the landlord but I’m sure it’s fine.”

“You think I can’t notice? I’ve known you for most of your life and this isn’t exactly you.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Amphetamine, isn’t it?”

For once Peter remained silent.

“We’re not in college anymore Peter. You have now these kids that look up to you and for once your goddamn actions have consequences on others, so I can’t just watch by.”

“I love it how you assume you can just waltz back into my life to criticize me whenever it suits you, but when I want to have an adult conversation about our relationship it’s a door slam to the face", Peters voice got heated.

“This isn’t about us. I’m worried, and for a reason. You’re not eating, you’re not sleeping. If you’re looking for an alternative to laying in bed all day, this isn’t.”

“Easy for you to say when you don’t know what it’s like. It’s probably a cliché, but I can stop when I want to. I just don’t want to right now, because it’ll go back to the way it was.”

“So how long do you think you can keep this going? You’ll crash eventually, and I won’t let Gwen, Miles and Peni be beside you then. You think Noir would even let you see them anymore if he knew? And what about Aunt May? You think she’d be proud?”

Peter collapsed his face into his hands and started crying with long heart-wrenching sobs. “I don’t know what to do.”

MJ got up and went to hug Peter.

They stayed like this for a long time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> might have gotten a little carried away myself there...  
> anyway tell me what you think


	3. What's wrong with the jeans?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short look into the moments before Peter has to step out of his comfort zone and finally meet with a therapist.

It had been two weeks that Peter had been clean, and to buy MJ's silence about the whole venture, he had agreed to meet a therapist. There had been a lot of discussions about it over the years, but somehow he had always managed to postpone it, or to convince MJ that it was not that bad. This time MJ had promised to take him all the way to the waiting room to serve as emotional support, but mostly to ensure that he would not bail.

Peter waited in his apartment for MJ to pick him up. He had taken a shower, but decided against shaving the five o’clock shadow, since the whole point of going was to stop pretending being fine anymore. During the passing weeks the pounds he had lost had crept back to him rather quickly, leaving him with faintly pink stretchmarks on his stomach. Due to these events, he noticed that trying on his jeans was a futile effort. He pinched his belly a bit too aggressively in a surge of self-loathing and flopped onto his bed with the jeans still in his ankles.

He heard the door open. One of the conditions of keeping MJ hush about recent events was that she was allowed to have a key to his apartment to check up on him anytime. She entered the combined living-bedroom and saw Peter laying there, basically just in his boxers, face buried into his hands, radiating a profoundly miserable aura.

“Morning. I came in early because I was certain that your ‘I’ll be ready at eleven’ meant something like this”, MJ said.

Peter groaned. “Can’t we just stay here? I can talk to you, I’m sure it’ll help. I got no clothes to wear anyhow.”

“What’s wrong with the jeans?”

“Nothing. All is wrong with me. How can I get my life together when all I can do is get fatter all the time?”

“C’mon. There are plenty of girls that are into… chubby guys.”

“Oh? I guess the market for depressed blobs must be just booming”, Peter said sarcastically.

“This is like your main problem. You’re being way too hard on yourself for something that is a legit illness. You keep forgetting that it’s not your fault. Now get up and let’s go do something about it.”

Peter sighed in defeat and went to his laundry basket to pick up some good old sweatpants.

 

They drove for a while completely in silence. Peter kept fidgeting his hands anxiously and looking out of the window as if waiting for a good spot to jump out.

“Did you know that ‘birds’ is _oiseaux_ in French? Like O-I-S-E-A-U-X. No letter is pronounced the way it should. And there are seven of them. Its pronounced like ‘ _wazoo_ ’ and it really makes me angry”, said Peter to fill the silence with absolute nonsense as he usually did when he was nervous.

“Peter, you already got problems coming out of the _wazoo_ for you to worry about things like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was quite a short one, although i decided that i'll be writing at least one more chapter instead of just these 3 i originally planned
> 
> and
> 
> thanks for tumblr for the wazoo-joke


	4. Would you like to elaborate?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Few close-ups of Peter's first therapy session.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> therapist: how are you  
> peter: fine how are you

”Do you know if your family has any history of mental illness?”

“I’m not sure, my parents died when I was a kid.”

“Sorry to hear that. Have you had any prior diagnoses or medications?”

“Umm, no. Well, I had this eating disorder thing when I was younger.”

“Would you like to elaborate?”

“Not really.”

“Okay, then. I’m not going to push you to share any more that you are willing to, but I would like you to consider if this eating disorder thing has something to do with your current weight issues.”

“I’m not… Why do you assume I have weight problems?”

“Your wife…”

“Ex-wife.”

“Your ex-wife gave us some background information about you and mentioned that she did not trust you to bring these up yourself.”

“Goddammit. How about you trust me to bring up the things I need to talk about and that’ll be it.”

“Whatever you like. Although…”

 

 

_Twenty years earlier_

It started when Peter was 24 years old, getting his degree, and sharing an apartment with MJ. In the spring, he started complaining about being tired and skipping classes, and by the time MJ noticed that he didn’t even leave the bed anymore, he hardly even spoke anything. First MJ wrote this off as stress, then she thought him just lazy and got frustrated, but finally she couldn’t be anything but worried and heart-broken when Peter answered that he simply could not get up or leave the apartment even if he wanted to. Their relationship got colder as MJ begun to spend more and more of her free time elsewhere. His only comfort was the campus food-delivery system, which allowed him to order a pizza without human contact. The summer was almost over when Peter dragged himself to the shower to cool off and caught a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror. This was the first time he saw the doughy pudge that had formed around his waist and he stopped to stare at the reflection. Without further thinking he stuck his fingers down his throat and threw up today’s lunch: mozzarella sticks and a pepperoni pizza. He splashed water on his face, decided against the shower, and went out for a doughnut.

 

.

 

“I really didn’t consider that I could have an eating disorder, I was just a guy trying to get back to my old looks.”

“It is surprisingly often that people with eating disorders are too close to them to realize that they got them.”

“So, MJ noticed I was doing better, we reunited, and I developed a pattern of throwing up during the depressive episodes until…”

“Until?”

“Until my aunt, May, died. It was one of my lowest moments and I could not care less about how I ate, looked or lived in general. The grieving process is somewhat… ongoing.”

“But you’ve stopped making yourself throw up?”

“Yeah. Not that I carry myself that proudly though, I’m just too exhausted to care.”

Recalling these events concerning Aunt May got his brains on rails to think about the first time he had realized that May was not at all blind for his struggles but had suffered for the whole time watching Peter’s mental health worsen.

 

 

_Twenty years earlier_

Peter was spending the holidays at home during the winter break at university, and he arrived on Christmas eve at Aunt Mays doorstep to surprise her. The last autumn had been though on him, and MJ had suggested that he could use a familiar face and some comforting surroundings. May opened the door and was delighter by the surprise visit in general but kept giving Peter some evaluating glances when she thought he was not looking. They were sipping whiskey on the living room chairs when she finally said something.

“I know I’ve said that you could use some meat on your bones but I’m not particularly excited about what you’ve done with your gut.”

“Oh. Yeah, I decided that developing a drinking problem was way to mainstream for me, so I thought I’d grow it out.”

Always with the witty comebacks even though she could see that he was in a bad state.

Peter watched May expectantly, as if to challenge her not to go any further on this topic, and just to return to changing pleasantries.

She was obviously not willing to do that, but also did not wish to make this evening uncomfortable by pushing him to talk about things he did not want to.

“I really hope you would get help,” was all she said before getting up and filling their glasses.

 

.

 

Peter snapped out of his memories to realize that the hour was gone, and he had successfully survived his first therapy session. Well, how he defined successful was that he had managed to sit still for the whole time.

They made a new appointment, then Peter left and got to MJ’s car.

“So how was it?”

“Sometimes there is more pasta in my house than common sense.”

“What?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was a short one but im planning on some plot advancements in the future


	5. Does time heal wounds?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been quite a while, and Peter's found some help from therapy and the new less stressful lifestyle but is all of that enough for now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yead still extending this for one chapter cause dont wanna fuck this up. anyway, comments welcome

It was a regular Wednesday morning when Peter decided that with all things gone relatively well, he deserved a personal day, a mental health day, if you will. He called in sick, wet back to bed, and had a few hours of sweet, sweet sleep. He woke up to a beep from his cellphone, but before checking on it, he went for the fridge to find some breakfast. Disappointed by mostly foul-gone scraps of leftover take-out boxes, he proceeded to raid the freezer to discover a huge tub of cookie dough ice cream. He grabbed the package delightfully and headed for the couch. The entertainment for this afternoon seemed to be Cosmos with Neil deGrasse Tyson, and it was fine by Peter, he had nothing against learning how wolves became dogs. He dug into the ice cream bucket with fierce determination when his phone made another beep. He checked the most recent message:

_Hey Peter! Don’t forget the pizza night today. Also, you better remember that you promised to bring the pizzas since ur the umm chaperone! Love, Peni_

“Oh yeah the pizza thing…” Peter muttered. “Well, at least I still got couple of hours of me time before that.”

_I’m old but I don’t got dementia. I’ll bring the pizzas, any preferences for the toppings?_

He went back to his ice cream for a while when he remembered that he had gotten another text in the morning. It was from MJ.

_Hey, is it okay if I drop by today while you’re at work? I finally cleared out the garage and got a box of your tools if you ever feel like fixing things around. I still got the key, so I’ll just peep by, k?_

Oh shit.

Just when he was in the middle of replying with _today don’t work_ or just _leave the box outside_ , he heard the rattling of the keys. A brief thought of hiding out crossed his brain but was deemed too childish even for him. He sighed deep and decided to go back to his show and not care.

MJ entered and put the box of tools on his kitchen table and looked around. She could see the flashing of the TV lights in the other room, so she called for Peter, but not getting any answer she proceeded to the living room, where she found Peter with eyes glued to the TV.

“Oh hey, I didn’t expect you to be home. How’s work?”

“I was not needed today”, Peter said stoically without removing his eyes from the program.

MJ kept standing at the doorway performing an evaluating glance. Peter ignored her and lifted the ice cream bucket from his lap to get to the bottom of the tub. MJ’s eyes were instantly drawn to Peter’s shirtless upper half that revealed his plump gut that was resting against the waistband of his sweatpants.

“When was the last time you went to the gym?” she asked raising her eyebrows. “Or even left the apartment?” she continued while eyeing the apartment which was full on grease-stained pizza boxes and chocolate wrappers.

“When was Obama elected president? I don’t care. There is nothing wrong with a few extra inches on your waist”, Peter replied, but only slightly annoyed.

“Right… You could still sometimes get up and go buy yourself a pair of right sized pants.”

“What do you mean?” Peter asked, mouth full of ice cream.

“So, you can’t notice how the waistband is digging into that muffin top of yours. I’m sorry but it’s just off-putting”

Peter spread his arms defensively. “I’m not here to please you.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed”, MJ said, turned around, and left the apartment with a bang.

Peter rubbed his face with an ice cream sticky hand. That went well.

He kept watching the show, but with slight distraction knocking on his mind. After finishing the ice cream, he went to the bathroom to wash his hands and took a long look at himself in the mirror. He ran his hand over his protruding middle. He knew he had been packing a few pounds recently, but now he felt disgusted. What he saw in the mirror was like a bloated, overfed pig who couldn’t control himself even for a minute.

He awoke back when his phone rang. It was Peni.

“Hiiii! Just calling about the toppings. So basically, five of whatever you want and one vegetarian for Gwen.”

“Listen… Peni, I’m not feeling very well right now so is it possible that we skip the pizzas and just watch a movie or so?”

“C’mon Pete, I’ve seen you down six burgers when you had a fever of one hundred, so don’t try to wiggle yourself out of this.”

“Hm okay. See you soon.”

 

Peter called the pizza service, picked up the ‘zas and headed to Peni’s dimension.

Tonight’s genre was horror and it took until the last minutes of the movie for peter to realize that during he had downed almost two pizzas himself. He cursed why he had decided to wear jeans, and slyly opened the top button to feel less uncomfortable. The movie ended with intense slashing and bashing that left the youngsters at the end of their seats.

“Whoo boy, I felt like I had no room to breathe” Miles commented after the lights where turned on and the official panel of judges started to review the movie.

“Yeah unlike Peter in his pants,” Gwen remarked and draw attention to the fact that Peter’s stomach was in full view since he had also lifted his shirt to feel less restrained. Miles and Peni chuckled but Peter just frowned. He got up and stared at his belly.

“I know this sounds pathetic but… guys do you think I’m getting too fat?”

“When was the last time you saw your toes?” Miles smirked but went serious after seeing the looks on Gwens and Penis faces indicating that play time was over.

“Well it’s not like your ribs are starting to show anytime soon… If you catch my drift.” Gwen said haltingly.

“Your drift is being caught. It was just something MJ said today. About how she finds me disgusting now.”

“You shouldn’t base your self-worth on the opinions of others. If you feel like losing weight is gonna bring your confidence back then go for it, otherwise you just need to find the things that make you feel good about yourself and embrace them.”

“I got no self-control so no, I’m stuck with this.”

“How about we meet up at your house tomorrow for a bit of clean up and empowering estimation?”

“Sure, whatever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please remember i'm not a native so if u find ANYTHING to fix, pls comment

**Author's Note:**

> are all my fics basically the same? maybe. do i care? nope, cause I love my precious sadsack.


End file.
